Aunt Lena
Scott Mclean
It’s odd, the things that stick out in your memories of younger years.
I have mentioned my Grandma Sorenson pulling a frozen apple pie out she had pre-made and baking it because I claimed I smelled a pie. I was about 4 or 5 when she died but, from what I remember, it’s easy to see where Mom got her cooking skills.
She was a slender woman in her late forties but came home from work and had a stroke. They took her to the hospital but they couldn’t save her. I didn’t know what was going on but my parents, Grandpa, and other adults in the family were at Grandpa’s house. They were all in a somber mood and Grandma wasn’t there.
It took me a while to realize she would not come home and was gone.
My Mom’s younger sister Barb and her husband Bill had an accident in the Yakima River canyon on slick roads on the way here from Seattle. Barb was pregnant and miscarried. She was in a hospital bed in Grandpa’s house. I just knew she wasn’t feeling well and wasn’t allowed to go bother her. I remember Mom making tuna and noodle casserole for everyone which was a dish I enjoyed.
My Grandma Sorenson and Great Grandma Lena died within a year of each other.
Here’s another sad aspect of my family. I did not know until I was an adult that Lena was my great Grandma. We always called her Aunt Lena.
The next part has always bothered me because I think it both sad and wrong. Not a lot of people know this and I would probably get chewed out for telling it but I think it’s time.
Lena was actually Grandpa’s Mom. Her father did not approve of Grandpa’s dad and they were not married when she became pregnant. That was a terrible thing at the time and his grandparents hid his being born and raised him. He was never allowed to call his mother Mom and had to call her Aunt Lena.
His biological father hired him to work on his logging crew later and took him hunting but Grandpa did not know it was his father. His mom eventually married a man named Larsen and Grandpa had a half brother and two half sisters he was not allowed to treat as such. Late in life, Grandpa met a half sister by his father who actually ended up living only a few miles from where he retired in Sequim.
I know times were different then but I would have a hard time forgiving Grandpa’s parents for what was done to him and thoughts he had that his Grandfather probably put there. After Grandpa had his stroke, he told my mom that he was going to hell because he was a bastard. To put that idea in a kids head is the real sin. He was the most kind and gentle Grandpa I could have asked for and I like to think of he and Grandma in a better place.
On a side note, Grandpa’s half sister gave him a picture of his dad. He is sitting down with a cup of coffee and looks so much like my Uncle Stan it’s scary.
This was almost a family secret but right or wrong it is time this sad tale came out. Sorry Grandpa.
I’ll try to go back to the lighter side next one.
Bye.